


A Bit of Happiness

by Blueplant



Category: Black Mirror
Genre: Gen, Learning To Communicate, episode tag: black museum, some halfassed linguistics and basic computer science in here but all for the plot i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13209228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueplant/pseuds/Blueplant
Summary: 0 is nothing.0 and 1 are the entire world.





	A Bit of Happiness

“Monkey loves you”  
“Monkey wants a hug”  
“Monkey loves you”

The camera in that damned toy had degraded so much that she only got a faint impression of her rescuer (rescuer, she told herself firmly, rescuer, not kidnapper, not anything worse). The microphone installed in the fluffy ears worked, but caused a constant low hum. She had been glad about that, for a while. Closing her eyes, listening to the hum, pretending to be on a plane, a boat, flying, anything but trapped. Now it just annoyed her. Outside the museum, daylight streaming into the car, she could almost cry when she heard the motor running.

“Monkey loves-“   
“Monkey lo-“  
“Monkey –“  
“Monkey loves you”

 

The haptic feedback had not given out yet, so she savored the pressure of the seat, soft, after so many years of glass, and hands, sometimes. At least no-one had tried to do more than that in the museum, no-one had choked her against the wall, stared into her lifeless eyes and taken everything away from her.

She started crying, but left the button alone.

The girl had put her in the chair, which was too low, she couldn’t see out of the windows. But to be honest, anything was better than looking at those stupid fucking exhibition pieces over and over and over. Every detail of the dashboard, every new texture, color, shade… even with the occasional glitches, and the low resolution, the view… She was overwhelmed. It was fascinating. Moving was amazing, the car…

Her son would be able to drive now.

She hadn’t stopped crying, and didn’t stop crying, until she felt the car come to rest, and felt the pressure of delicate hands lifting her from her seat, and carrying her into a house. The girl put her down on the couch, and moved out of sight. She could feel a cold hard thing sink into her stomach. What if she would just leave her here? Would this view, these walls, become as familiar to her as the museum? Would the sight of this faded green couch, and its soft pressure become as hated as the White Bear, the electrode-cap, and the occasional screams of pain and yells of excitement?

She curled up in her chair, and still felt this touch of wrongness when her perspective stayed the same. She should be able to move, damn it, this was just wrong, you don’t, can’t, do this to a human being. It was cold, even when she knew that technically, she couldn’t feel cold anymore. It was all bland, no temperature, taste, smell, not anything except pressure, buzzing sounds and a lagging camera.  
She felt a shift in pressure, heard something land, and her viewpoint changed. The girl must have returned, and as she thought that, she felt her hands putting her upright.  
She looked the girl in the eyes. She looked even younger than remembered, like a pressure had been lifted off her. She was wearing some sort of color, might have been green, or brown, it was hard to tell in the lightning. 

“Hi”, she said, “My name is Nish”.

Nish shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to communicating with someone who was stuck in a stuffed monkey Christ, sometimes she had to laugh at herself because what else was there to do. She pressed a button:

“Monkey loves you”

Nish grimaced. “Yeah, I was thinking about that. You have two options, right?”

“Monkey loves you”

“So, it’s either “Monkey loves you” or “Monkey wants a hug”? Those bastards couldn’t even start the phrase with a meaningful difference in phonemes? Assholes”, Nish said, her voice growing cold and intense.

Inside, she shrugged. She had never really had the focus to think about it. First it had been the pain of betrayal, and then the hope of being with her son, forever, and then his it’s not a betrayal, he didn’t know what he was doing, it’s not his fault and she felt the teardrops running down her face again. She wiped them away angrily.

When she looked outside again, Nish was writing something on a notepad. With a pen. Shit. She had liked to draw; she was no artist, but just, a hobby, something to do. She ached to hold a pen again. 

“Well, what are neurons but bits anyway?” Nish mumbled, scribbling. The camera’s resolution was too low, and couldn’t pick up on what she was writing. Eventually, Nish placed the paper in front of her camera.

“You know, I took some linguistics in college, and well, it’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing, I hope. I might be able to speed up your vocal stream so we can do this faster, if there is stuff on the black market.”

A chart. She had drawn out two charts, shaky lines in blue pen:

111 – i 110 – e 100 – a 011 – u 010 – o

 

1111 – p 1011 – t 0111 – f 0011 – k  
1110 – b 1010 – d 0110 – v 0010 - g  
1101 – m 1001 – r 0101 – s 0001 – h  
1100 - n 1000 - l 0100 – z 0000 – 

“I thought, you can get three bits for the vowels, and four for the consonants, it won’t be quick, but it will be better than no-"

“Monkey loves you!”

Inside, she was shaking. Finally. Some way. She looked into Nish’s eyes, and saw everything there. Peace, patience.  
With shaking fingers, she began to press the buttons

“Monkey wa- Monkey wa- Monkey lo- Monkey lo-“  
“Monkey lo- Monkey wa- Monkey wa-“  
“Monkey lo- Monkey wa- Monkey wa- Monkey lo-“  
“Monkey lo- Monkey wa- Monkey wa- Monkey lo-“  
“Monkey lo- Monkey lo- Monkey lo-“

Nish, deciphering on the fly, spelled it out: K-A-R-R-I.  
“Your name is Carrie? Nice to meet you, Carrie.”

“Monkey loves you”.

And she smiled, and Nish smiled too.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic in ages. I just couldn't let this idea go after seeing the episode because I can't imagine anything worse than not being able to communicate.
> 
> The tables are loosely based on the IPA charts. 
> 
> You ask "why not use Morse code?", I answer: "Well, this was more fun to write".


End file.
